


doze

by cemetery_driven



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Sharing beds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 20:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3991909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cemetery_driven/pseuds/cemetery_driven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete's the worst to share a bed with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	doze

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by little--rabbit, who left an ask when I was whining about being bored and left a prompt for peterick bedsharing fluff.

 

In the middle of winter, Pete sleeps in one of his old Clan hoodies that smell like the days on tour and his own rankness, because he doesn't like washing good smells away.

 

Patrick thinks his old Clan hoodies smell terrible and probably need to be kept in quarantine, but the last time he stole one for the laundry Pete got cranky when it came out smelling like Cuddly-brand fabric softener instead of sweat and summer and shared bunks. Patrick decided he didn't really have so much against them, just as long as Pete never, ever, ever wore them outside the bedroom again unless they had two rounds through the spin cycle.

 

He figured out early on that Pete was a very smell-driven kind of guy. On the road, Patrick's shirts frequently disappeared and reappeared stuffed into the sides of Pete's bunk or under his pillow, still gross and rank from the last time he'd worn it, drool-stains from Pete using it as a makeshift security blanket.

 

It wasn't a fetish-thing, more a comfort thing, and it just became a Pete thing and Patrick stopped worrying about it after a while.

 

There were a lot of Pete things Patrick got used to over time.

 

In the summer, Pete sleeps stark naked, on top of the covers and with the top sheet covering just his feet, mostly sprawled out on his stomach or with one arm wedged awkwardly under himself. Sometimes, he sticks an ice pack underneath his pillow, wrapped in a handtowel, trying to cool off in the sticky-gross heat. Every morning, Patrick wakes up to the backs of Pete's thighs sticking to his own.

 

With the Clan hoodies in the winters come the hole-filled sweatpants and, on the coldest nights, a beanie pulled down over his ears. He refuses to use a heater while they sleep, for some stupid reason Patrick will never remember, so it's extra blankets and layers of clothes to make up their defence against the bitter cold air. With the lack of a sticky layer of sweat, Pete curls in more, burrowing down under the layers and layers of cotton-weave covers and heavy blankets, pressing his face into the space between Patrick's shoulderblades.

 

It's winter now, and Pete's curled into a ball, hood pulled up over his head, his forehead pressing into Patrick's neck and his knees into Patrick's tailbone. It's uncomfortable and Pete's knees are hard and his sweatpants are old and scratchy against his skin, digging in either side of Patrick's spine.

 

He's also mumbling, mostly incomprehensible gibberish, and it's incredibly distracting and definitely keeping Patrick more awake than he'd really like to be at asshole oclock in the morning. It'll get progressively worse, and when Pete's alarm goes off at seven-thirty, Patrick will mutter obscenities and tell the world to fuck itself and bury his head under the pillows and go back to sleep til well into brunch hours at least, more often into the afternoon.

 

If he's really, truly honest, if Pete didn't call him around noon in-between Clan-related meetings and coffee dates with Gabe and William, some days Patrick just wouldn't get out of bed at all.

 

Pete sniffs and moves, his toes tickling the back of Patrick's calves, and he murmurs especially loudly and presses his face back into Patrick's spine.

 

When he wraps his arm around Patrick's stomach, just-tight enough that if he tried to move it'd be a disturbance, Patrick grabs one of his fingers and starts drawing little circles along the lines of his knuckles.

 

Pete is an awful sleeper, but even with his blanket theft and cold toes and bare ass, it's better to have him close than anywhere else.


End file.
